


Collapsed

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Blow Jobs, Confessions, Enthusiastic Consent, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, McReaper, Missions Gone Wrong, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Unrequited Crush, mcreyes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: They wait. Nothing comes through the emergency lines. The recon team is deployed back to Colombia to track McCree’s last known location. They find his biotracker, badly damaged and bloodied, a few miles away from his post during the rally. There's no sign of him otherwise. The recon team returns to the base empty handed.---In which Jack takes Jesse out of Blackwatch and Gabe has to save him from certain disaster.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> Hey, it's been awhile. I come bearing gifts in the form of more self-indulgent McReyes. 
> 
> Another shout-out to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega) for keeping me honest and asking the Correct logistical questions, as well as yelling her encouragements from across the internet (and, once! even!, across her living room). 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic).

Gabe sits stiffly across from Jack while they finish going through requisition orders and field reports. It's been a long, long morning and Gabe is ready for it to be over. The finer points of running Overwatch and - secretly - Blackwatch are exhausting in and of itself, but having to compromise on almost every single issue is exhausting in a completely different way. His head aches, his leg is falling asleep, and he’d really like to go take some of this aggression on a punching bag.

“One last thing,” Jack says and Gabe closes his eyes briefly to steel himself for what is likely going to be another argument about  _ how much exactly  _ does Blackwatch need, and shouldn't they be able to run on hand-me-downs and fumes?

“Yeah?” Gabe asks tiredly. He's tired of arguing with Jack, of fighting for every last resource. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

“I'm moving McCree out of Blackwatch. He'll be on the Overwatch tac team,” Jack says. Gabe’s head snaps up and the air leaves his lungs like he's been punched.

“No,” Gabe says immediately. “He's Blackwatch’s best agent.”

“He's reckless. He needs some discipline,” Jack says. He's not looking at Gabe and Gabe is trying his best to keep his fists in his lap. “That last debacle -”

“He improvises. It's one of his best assets - Blackwatch  _ needs _ that,” Gabe says. Jack shakes his head a little and finally sets his stylus down to look up at Gabe.

“You have plenty of agents, Gabe. We all have to make sacrifices,” Jack says. His tone skews chiding, holier-than-thou; like Gabe should know better. Gabe wonders exactly what sacrifices Jack is making for the benefit of Overwatch, especially given this whole morning was spent bleeding Blackwatch - and, by extension, Gabe - dry.

“No,” Gabe says again. Jack frowns at Gabe across his desk.

“This isn't up for debate.”

“I'm telling you - no.”

“Gabe,” Jack says, exasperated. “This isn't about you playing favorites. This is about what's necessary.”

“McCree belongs in Blackwatch,” Gabe grinds out.

“You're forgetting that Overwatch signed his release papers,” Jack says, as if that settles it. He sits back in his seat. “He can be assigned how Overwatch sees fit.”

Gabe grits his teeth, fingers digging into his palms. He's doing his best to keep his composure even though he's seeing red.

“You wouldn't have signed those papers if I hadn't convinced you,” Gabe says.

“Let’s not do this now, Gabe. McCree’s moving to Overwatch - that's final.”

=-=-=

Gabe sits in his own office, palms pressed against his eyes, trying to dispel the migraine that his rage has aggravated. There's a knock on his door and before Gabe can say “Go away,” it's pushed open. Jesse McCree bursts in, red faced.

“Sir,” he says breathlessly. “I think someone made a mistake.”

Gabe swallows in an effort to keep his voice even. “What are you talking about, McCree?”

“They assigned me to the Overwatch tac team,” McCree says. The steel fist around Gabe’s head tightens incrementally. He makes himself take a steadying breath before he speaks.

“Strike Commander Morrison gave the order,” Gabe says.

“Can't you do anything?” McCree asks, a note of pleading in his voice that makes Gabe’s heart clench up. He shakes his head a little.

“The Strike Commander’s orders supersede mine,” Gabe says. He tries to sound apologetic but he's trying to keep in so much anger that his words come out sounding flat. McCree’s staring at him, openly abashed, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He's, what, 20, 21 now? It’s been a few years since he joined. He’s filled out, grown up into an excellent agent. He's been with Blackwatch long enough to have a better grip on his own emotions - but this is something else. Gabe didn't think Jesse would take it so badly. He  _ hates  _ this.

“But - Blackwatch -” McCree starts to say.

“We have plenty of agents. We’ll make do,” Gabe says, trying to go for reassuring. It doesn't sound very reassuring to him, and it must not for McCree either. McCree’s face twists up, his cheeks reddening. He looks absolutely devastated - betrayed, even. He keeps looking at Gabe with disbelief. Gabe fights the insane urge to get up and draw McCree into his arms and never let him go.

“I - I understand sir,” McCree says finally, looking away. His shoulders sag a little, the wind leaving his sails completely. “I guess - I guess I gotta go pack up my stuff then.”

Gabe blinks. “What?”

“They're moving me to the Overwatch barracks,” McCree says miserably. He makes an effort to draw himself up a little straighter but he can't quite bring himself to meet Gabe’s eye. “It was - it was an honor serving with you, sir.”

McCree turns on his heel and leaves before Gabe can stop him. The door slides closed. Gabe doesn't throw his tablet, but it's a near thing.

=-=-=

Gabe doesn’t see McCree for a month and a half. He's pretty sure Jack does it on purpose, so that he doesn't have an opportunity to somehow fix what Jack’s wrought. Instead, Gabe throws himself into his work, funneling his anger into directing Blackwatch operations. For the first few days, the squad peppered him with questions about McCree’s whereabouts - why he had been reassigned, how long would he be gone, did Gabe know about this? Gabe snapped at enough of them that they stopped asking. Eventually, they figured it out on their own. Or, at least, McCree was able to fill them in. It looked like Overwatch was keeping him busy. Gabe tapped into their database to keep tabs on McCree and his missions. Just in case, he told himself. He felt a certain responsibility for McCree and he felt, in a way, like he had failed him by not fighting harder to prevent his transfer to Overwatch.

He avoids Jack as much as possible.

“How come Jesse doesn’t come around anymore?” Fareeha asks, idly doodling on the side of her homework assignment while Gabe cleans his guns. Gabe clenches up. He doesn't want to do this again. 

“Is that in your algebra homework?” Gabe asks, not looking up. Fareeha huffs at him.

“I’m practically already done,” she says.

“Mm. Let me see,” Gabe says, setting his guns aside so Fareeha can pass him her tablet. She leans her elbows on the table and watches Gabe’s face. He keeps his eyes on the functions.

“He’s been gone for weeks. Is it a secret Blackwatch thing?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you,” Gabe points out. He corrects a problem in Fareeha’s work.

“So it is a Blackwatch thing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Fareeha,” Gabe says, setting his stylus down for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a Blackwatch assignment. Didn’t you talk to him?”

“Well he was in an awful hurry. And his room is empty,” Fareeha says, frowning. There’s a worried note in her voice that makes Gabe look at her. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

Gabe passes her tablet back to her. “No, he didn’t leave. He was just reassigned.”

Fareeha’s face falls even more. “Why? Did he do something wrong?”

“No,” Gabe says tiredly. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He's the best and Jack thought he’d be better in Overwatch, is all. He’ll probably end up running some missions with your mom, even.”

Fareeha frowns again, unconvinced.

“But he’s better in Blackwatch.”

“Ah, is that your expert opinion?”

“He  _ likes _ it better in Blackwatch.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He picks up his guns again to go back to cleaning. Fareeha flicks his hand, making him look at her again.

“You gotta get him back, Gabe,” she says. “Jesse’d want you to, even if he doesn’t say.”

Gabe swallows but doesn’t say anything. He puts a hand over Fareeha’s.

“Finish your homework, Fareeha.”

=-=-=

The Blackwatch tac team takes over one of the lounges to have a mini reunion when McCree finally gets some time off. Gabe waffles about showing up and finally settles on making a brief appearance and leaving before they all get too drunk. He feels strangely nervous when he steps into the lounge.

McCree is there, sitting between Shiga and Prithi, in an Overwatch uniform that doesn’t look quite right on him. Gabe reminds himself that it’s just different, unfamiliar - not wrong. McCree’s smile looks slightly strained. He looks tired, overworked. They've been working him non-stop since he was reassigned. His smile falls a notch when he looks up and spots Gabe in the doorway. It twists something in Gabe’s chest that takes him by surprise. He pushes that feeling down.

“Don’t mind me,” Gabe says, putting up his hands and trying for a lighter tone. “Just wanted to check in, say hi.”

“Have a drink, Commander,” Shiga says, lifting his bottle of beer. Gabe wants to stay, make sure for himself that McCree’s okay, but another part of him can't help but notice that McCree is avoiding looking at him.

“Yeah, the prodigal agent has returned,” Edwards says. He kicks at McCree’s shoe, teasingly - it makes him jump.

“Ha, well. Not really. They got me on another mission tomorrow,” McCree says. He’s clutching his bottle of beer close to his chest and shifts a little in his seat. He picks at the biotracker around his wrist absently. Blackwatch agents never had to wear them - what's the point of covert operations if you show up on someone's scanners? - but the biotrackers were mandatory for Overwatch agents. It was important to keep tabs on the world’s peacekeepers. Gabe always hated them and he could imagine McCree did too; the vital monitors are a lot like the ankle bracelets criminals had to wear.

“Already?” Valdez asks, frowning. McCree raises one shoulder in a shrug.

“They’ve - we’ve got a busy schedule,” he says. “It’s different.”

“Well they have a lot more rules than we do, huh?” Edwards says.

“I'm sure the missions are easier at least,” Valdez says reasonably. McCree shrugs again.

“It's a lot of politics,” he says. “It's… I dunno. It seems almost cleaner here. Like we… like it's easier to tell who the good guys are. Feels harder with the political types.”

McCree raises his eyes to look at Gabe directly for the first time since he walked in. There's something about the quality of McCree’s voice that makes the vice around Gabe’s heart tighten. He swallows. McCree is having a crisis of faith and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

“We’re on the side of the good guys, McCree,” Gabe says. It's something he's told him before, when McCree has a rough mission, or a flashback to his times in Deadlock. Before, it seemed comforting to him to hear those words from Gabe. Now, McCree looks away.

“Yeah,” McCree says, taking a long swig from his bottle.

“Never made sense to me to waste all those resources on politicians anyway,” Edwards says.

“Sounds boring. I'd probably go nuts,” Shiga says, ever so helpfully.

“Feels like it, some days,” McCree says with a smile that looks on the wrong side of forced.

“More drinks,” Shiga declares, popping up out of his seat. “Joining us, Commander?”

Gabe shakes his head. “Try not to break any furniture this time,” he says. He should let the team reassure McCree; it'll mean more coming from them than from him. He starts to turn to leave then stops. “It was good seeing you, McCree.”

When the door closes behind him, Gabe's pretty sure he hears some tittering - an “ _ Ohhhh _ , it was good seeing you!” - on the other side. He pretends not to hear it and goes back to his quarters alone.

=-=-=

“How do you deal with him?” Jack asks, unceremoniously letting himself into Gabe’s office. Gabe looks up, his eyes narrowing. He doesn't appreciate the interruptions, least of all from Jack, and especially when he's trying to wrap his head around his new restricted budget. 

“Who?”

“You know  _ who _ ,” Jack snaps. He flops into the chair in front of Gabe’s desk. “McCree. I’ve had it up to here with him, Gabe.”

Gabe doesn’t say anything. He sets his stylus down and lets Jack talk, his mouth pressed in a hard line.

“He doesn’t  _ listen _ ,” Jack goes on. He rubs a hand over his face as he slumps down further in the chair. “It’s like orders slide right on through his head without sticking. I swear he does the opposite just to test me.”

“Don’t treat him like a child,” Gabe says simply. Jack gives Gabe an unamused look.

“He acts like a child.”

“Nobody likes being talked down to,” Gabe says.

“I’m his commander. These are orders,” Jack says, frustrated.

“He’s not military,” Gabe points out.

“He should know better!”

“He’s smart, Jack. He doesn’t do anything half-assed.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jack scoffs. Gabe curls his hands into fists and slips them into his lap. “Everyone thought I was a dumb hick, but at least I followed orders.”

“He’s probably bored,” Gabe says. Jack’s head snaps up.

“Excuse me?”

“Blackwatch missions are different,” Gabe says, trying to choose his words carefully. “He's used to the high-octane stuff. Escorting politicians isn't exactly rocket science.”

“It's not just escort missions, Gabe,” Jack says. He's taken offense at the suggestion - his tone had gone defensive. “It's delicate work. There's a lot of layers involved.”

Gabe puts up his hands. He doesn't want to start a fight over whose job is harder - he knows he won't win, even though he's right - and Jack doesn't like being reminded that without Blackwatch to do his dirty work, Overwatch’s missions would be a lot more messy.

“Give him a chance, Jack,” Gabe says. “He can handle whatever you throw at him.”

=-=-=

Gabe keeps an ear to the ground over the next few weeks, just to keep tabs on Jack’s progress with McCree. If the murmurs around the base and mission reports are of any indication, it's not going well. Gabe wonders if, or when, Jack is just going to give up. Unfortunately, he's very familiar with Jack’s particular brand of stubbornness.

A huge mission comes up that requires both Overwatch and Blackwatch to get involved: a political rally in Colombia that needs Overwatch peacekeepers to deter any violence, but also provides the perfect opportunity for Blackwatch to get in and take down a local terror group that's been gaining ground. It takes a lot of planning - Gabe had almost forgotten what it was like to coordinate with Jack on an assignment, and it's no less frustrating than it used to be. It's compounded by Jack’s position and his insistence that what he says, goes. Gabe wonders when Jack actually stopped listening to him, if including him in the finer details of planning this operation were just for show. The plan itself ends up being just outside of what Gabe feels comfortable with, but Jack’s confidence that it'll work doesn't leave a lot of room for Gabe to protest.

Blackwatch deploys ahead of the Overwatch team to clear and secure certain points of interest in the city. Gabe’s team sweeps through, clean and efficient, and he wonders - not for the first time - why they're so maligned by the rest of the organization. They do good work; it's not pretty, but they get it done.

It's sticky and hot and Gabe’s patience is already wearing thin by the time Overwatch gets into town. He keeps his people on the fringes, monitoring the feeds as the rally gets underway. There's a handful of suspicious people that Blackwatch identifies and removes from the area quickly, but otherwise there's no sign of trouble.

Honestly, it is pretty boring.

The rally is loud and long but there aren't any casualties. Nothing goes wrong. The Overwatch team returns to the base ahead of the Blackwatch squad. Gabe and his team fly back the next day, with no out of the ordinary incidents to report.

Gabe manages to take a shower and is cleaning his weapons when Jack bursts into his quarters. It's one thing for Jack to invade his office, but his quarters are another story. It’s unfair that Jack uses his override as Strike Commander to get into his personal room. He makes a mental note to look into using a separate security system, or maybe install some tasers.

“Where is he?” Jack demands. Gabe glances up, making it clear with his expression that he doesn’t appreciate being barged in on. He doesn’t stop cleaning his gun.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Reyes, it doesn’t suit you. McCree. Where is McCree?” Jack snaps. Gabe blinks at him.

“He’s on your team, Jack. You’ve kept him out of my sight for months,” Gabe replies cooly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“What?”

“I don't know what you have going on with him, but if you've pulled him back onto your team, I swear -”

“I haven't,” Gabe interrupts, voice going hard. “You gave the orders and I let you take my best agent.”

“Oh, he's just your best agent?”

Gabe narrows his eyes at Jack. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Don’t fool yourself. You and the kid -” Jack says. He’s staring Gabe down, but Gabe doesn’t flinch. He’s been on the receiving end of that stare too many times to let it get to him now. “You’re his  _ commander _ , Gabe.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate.”

“You’re fucking him,” Jack accuses. Gabe manages not to lob his gun at Jack’s head. He sets it down on the table slowly, deliberately, and puts his hands in his lap.

“Is that what you think? Is that why you took him out from under me?” Gabe asks, voice steady and dangerous. Jack doesn’t back down; he knows that voice, but he never did learn when to stop picking at a wound.

“Where is he, Gabe?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? I’m not  _ fucking _ him. If you can’t find him, that’s your problem. He’s under  _ your _ command now,” Gabe grinds out. The hands in his lap curl into fists. 

“Fucking unbelievable,” Jack says, turning and pacing away from Gabe.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Where would he go?”

Gabe shrugs. “He hides - all over the base. You’d be hard pressed to find him if you didn’t know where to look.”

Gabe knows where to look, but he's petty enough to withhold that information, particularly if Jack’s already started hitting below the belt. 

“What if he didn’t come back to the base? Has he run off before?”

Gabe blinks, a pit opening up in his stomach. McCree was prone to hiding, sure, but that has tapered off a lot in recent months. He had been sleeping better, he took some of Gabe’s advice about talking to the psych folks. But he never went off base when he was having a bad time. “What? No. Never.”

“He didn’t come back to base after the op,” Jack says, letting out an exasperated huff.

“What do you mean he didn’t come back to the base?” Gabe repeats. “Don’t you have his biotracker?”

Jack purses his lips. “No.”

“No?” Gabe is trying not to see red even as his mind skips to the worst possibilities. The pit in his stomach widens.

“No,” Jack says. “We can't get a read on it.”

“Is it offline?”

“Gabe -”

“ _ Is it offline? _ ”

Jack frowns. “Yes.”

Gabe’s heart drops. He clenches his hands in his lap. “Then we follow protocol,” he finds himself saying, almost mechanical. “Wait 48 hours. Monitor emergency lines. Deploy a recon team to last known location. Wait.”

=-=-=

They wait. Nothing comes through the emergency lines. The recon team is deployed back to Colombia to track McCree’s last known location. They find his biotracker, badly damaged and bloodied, a few miles away from his post during the rally. There's no sign of him otherwise. The recon team returns to the base empty handed.

Gabe rages at Jack, who listens without speaking. After Gabe leaves Jack’s office, Jack changes McCree’s status to “Missing in Action” with all active agents advised to keep an eye out for any signs.

The Blackwatch team takes it very badly. They storm into Gabe’s office, legion in their self-righteousness.

“It's been days and they haven't seen anything,” Edwards says.

“We can't just let Morrison stop looking -” Shiga says.

“- If they're not going to look for him, we should,” Valdez adds.

“McCree would do the same for us,” Prithi concludes.

Gabe sits stiffly at his desk, face impassive, listening to his best agents rant. He agrees with everything they're saying. His stomach is sour, twisting with worry and a healthy dose of guilt. He waits until they've run out of things to say.

“Is that all?” he asks. The four agents exchange an incredulous look, almost simultaneously drawing breath to start ranting again. Gabe puts up a hand. “We’re not going to sit here. One of our own is out there, and we're going to do everything we can to get him back.”

The four agents let out a collective breath, their relief almost palpable. Gabe isn't smiling - there's still work to be done.

=-=-=

The intel they gather leads them right back to the city in Colombia. The Blackwatch squad pulls every trick in the book to narrow their search, reviewing everything they can get their hands on from the day of the rally. They find security tapes from a private residence that the Overwatch recon team missed. The building is a few blocks outside of where McCree was supposed to have been posted, along a side street just off the main road. The cameras caught a glimpse of the Overwatch insignia on McCree’s shoulder as he talked to a man whose face they couldn't see. The man grabbed one of McCree’s arms, his other arm out of sight. With a tug, McCree was pulled out of the frame.

Gabe considers telling Jack that his squad is going after McCree themselves, but thinks better of it. Instead, he files the mission orders as usual and takes off with the Blackwatch team without preamble. Less of a chance Jack will try to stop them; Jack almost never reviews Blackwatch missions unless he's misusing their resources himself. The team is glad to be going after their squad mate; they had been getting restless without Overwatch intervening. They take the shuttle down and Gabe joins them himself, sitting in the back of the transport with his arms folded tightly across his chest and saying nothing, even as the squad bickers through their own anticipation.

They might not find anything at all; is that better or worse than finding McCree’s corpse - or what's left of it? Gabe doesn't want to think through the possibilities. He's run through all of them in his head on his own and very few of the scenarios he dreams up have happy endings. He tries to remind himself that he's lost agents before. It's never easy. It fucking sucks, actually. To lose someone who has trained by your side, run missions with you, seen you in the morning slumped over your coffee or late at night after too many drinks and then for them to just be gone - nothing left but a hollow where a familiar face used to be. It leaves an empty space in Gabe’s heart every time, as much as he tries not to let it bother him, as much as he doesn't show it outwardly. He has to be strong to keep his team going, but that doesn't mean he doesn't sometimes feel like he's collapsing into that empty space inside of him without anything to hold him up.

Losing McCree might be the one that actually breaks him, but Gabe is trying very hard not to think about why that may be.

Shiga lands the shuttle just outside of town. It's hot again, the air thick and threatening rain. The squad hops out and they all look at Gabe expectantly.

“Comms on, keep it quiet, make sure you're thorough. Let's bring our guy back,” Gabe says. He looks at all of their faces; they've all gone serious, determined. It's a small relief - Gabe knows that they'll see this through to the end. They split off in pairs, leaving Gabe to his own path.

They had spent a few days monitoring the target building. It’s a residential structure, a ramshackle townhouse that has definitely seen better days. A man who matched the admittedly vague description they found on the security footage meandered in and out of the building, often talking on his cell phone. They managed to trace some of his calls; he appeared to be involved in some gang-related gun running activities. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but they’ve done fine with less information.

Prithi and Shiga secure the perimeter while Edwards hacks the building’s security systems and Valdez scans for weapons. Gabe takes a turn around the block, making his own assessment of the lay of the land, waiting for the all clear.

“We’re good, Commander,” Valdez finally says over the comms.

“South side of the block, the door’s clear and cameras are down. We’ll take the east side,” Edwards adds. “Biosignatures indicate at least two people in the building, top floor.”

“Prithi and I have got the perimeter,” Shiga says. “Go get him.”

Gabe takes a moment to be proud of his team; he’s grateful for their unwavering competence. “Keep an eye out,” he says before he mutes his comm, slipping around the block to the back door with a gun in hand. He slides an EMP device under the door ahead of him and counts to five. The door opens easily under his hands. He slips inside and pauses to listen. One of the unsung heroes of his SEP-enhanced senses was his fine-tuned hearing; he doesn’t hear any extra pairs of shoes or weapons warming up.

“I’m in,” Gabe murmurs into his comm.

“Right behind you, boss,” Valdez replies.

“Top floor,” Edwards says. “No movement.”

“Got it,” Gabe says. He starts moving down the hall, checking rooms just to make sure that Edwards didn’t miss anything - he didn’t, of course; Edwards is excellent at what he does. Gabe finds the stairwell and creeps up the steps, weapon drawn and ready. At the top of the front stairwell, a face appears briefly before disappearing again. The door slams and Gabe hears it lock. He takes the rest of the steps two at a time. A gun goes off behind the door. Gabe feels his heart drop. He reaches the top of the steps and kicks the door down without pause. Edwards and Valdez are saying something in his ear but he's not paying attention. The face that saw him just a moment ago whips around and takes a shot at Gabe. Automatically, Gabe ducks away, firing at the man’s gun arm. He goes down with a yelp. Gabe finally lets himself look around the room.

McCree is slumped with his back against the wall, chin to his chest, a pool of blood spreading around him. Gabe surges forward.

“McCree - talk to me,” Gabe says, slipping a hand under his chin. McCree’s eyes are glassy, unfocused. There's a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, more bubbling up between his lips.

“C-commander?” McCree asks, trying to focus on Gabe’s face. His breath is rattling. Gabe takes a quick look; the shot must have hit a lung, but it's just insult to a slew of older injuries. Gabe cups McCree’s cheek.

“Yeah. Stay with me, alright?”

“‘M not - don't feel good,” McCree coughs wetly, more blood coming up.

“We're gonna get you out of here,” Gabe promises. He puts a hand to his ear piece. “Top floor. One hostile disabled, I have McCree.”

He drops his hand and turns his attention back to McCree. He can't be sure what's going on under what's left of his torn and dirty Overwatch uniform, but the bullet wound is more pressing. Gabe pushes the frayed bits of fabric to the side to get a look. One of McCree’s hands grabs Gabe's searching hands, surprising Gabe even though his grip is slack. Gabe looks up at McCree’s face.

“Can't breathe,” McCree rasps. The fear is clear in his eyes and his hand keeps grasping at Gabe’s arm, fingers struggling to keep a grip, slipping in the blood. Gabe feels his own throat start to close up.

“Easy. I got you,” Gabe says. McCree’s hand slips from his arm. Gabe catches it before he goes too far. McCree coughs again, wheezing through the blood. His chest heaves with each painful breath.

“Gabe,” McCree says. “I - I -”

“Save your breath, alright? Gotta get you out of here,” Gabe says, looking over McCree’s body, trying to gauge how far they'll be able to get. “You wanna try standing up with me?”

McCree’s face twists up but he nods. Gabe hauls him up, easily taking all his weight into his arms. McCree’s legs don't seem to be working properly - they're not supporting him at all, and his grip on Gabe is slipping again. He's making little pained noises in between wheezes. Gabe keeps him upright.

“I got you, I got you,” Gabe murmurs over and over. McCree’s head lolls. Gabe shakes him a little. “ _ Jesse _ . Stay with me.”

“‘M tryin’ -”

“We gotta get down the stairs. That's easier than going to the roof, right?” Gabe says, easing McCree to the door. He's practically carrying him.

“Uh huh,” McCree says. His breath rattles in Gabe’s ear. He can smell the blood on his breath.

“Keep talking to me, McCree,” Gabe says, taking them down the first couple of steps.

“Jesse.”

“Hm?”

“Jesse - keep sayin’ Jesse,” McCree says. Gabe tightens his grip around his waist.

“Yeah. Jesse,” Gabe nods. They manage to get down another few steps before Gabe has to adjust his grip to accommodate the slick blood. “You can keep calling me Gabe, then. Only fair.”

McCree -  _ Jesse _ \- makes a little wheezing noise that might be a laugh. He’s leaning his head on Gabe’s shoulder, the effort of keeping it upright too much to bear.

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes, voice quiet, strained.

“Jesse?”

Jesse makes that wheezing noise again, turning his face into Gabe’s neck. His breath is hot and sticky on Gabe’s skin. He can feel a trickle of blood creep down his collar too. Gabe tries not to stumble down the next couple of steps.

“Shoulda - shoulda’ve said somethin’ sooner,” Jesse mumbles.

“Didn’t know Jack was going to pull something like this,” Gabe says. Jesse shakes his head a little, his lips ghosting against Gabe’s neck.

“Nah, I mean -” Jesse’s legs slip but Gabe catches him just before the both of them go down. Jesse grabs at Gabe, trying to hold back his cry as something pulls. Gabe feels a fresh surge of blood over his fingers.

“Almost there. Just a few more steps, Jesse,” Gabe says, but Jesse’s slipping through his fingers. He sits down hard, sliding down a step or two before Gabe grabs him up again. Gabe pulls Jesse to his chest, sitting on the steps so Jesse can catch his breath. Jesse turns his face into Gabe’s chest.

“‘S just my luck,” Jesse mutters, muffled, breathing hard.

“Save your breath, Jesse. Still have a ways to go,” Gabe says. He’s trying to keep his tone light, but he’s seen how much blood Jesse’s lost, he can hear the weakening rattle in his chest. Neither Edwards or Valdez have reported in on the comms for a while - he’s trying not to get worried.

“‘S just - always had a… a crush on you, Gabe,” Jesse manages to say. He’s tilted his head back to look at Gabe’s face, eyes trying to focus on his features. Gabe clutches at him - too hard, probably - but he can’t help it.

“You’ve lost a lotta blood, Jesse,” Gabe says finally. Jesse wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, really only managing to spread some blood around.

“Thought I should say,” Jesse says. Gabe hauls him closer. He knows it’s symptomatic of the blood loss, of Jesse not being in his right mind. He knows that Jesse would never, ever say anything like this otherwise. He knows that he isn’t allowed to feel a surge of hope in his chest when Jesse is likely dying in his arms.

“Enough of that,” he says again. “Enough. We’re almost out.”

Jesse presses his face back into Gabe’s chest and Gabe tries to ignore the warmth of the blood seeping into his fatigues. He presses his hand to his ear piece again.

“Edwards, Valdez, status,” he says. The comm crackles, but no response comes through. Gabe rubs Jesse’s back a little. “Gotta get moving again, Jesse.”

“Can’t,” Jesse rasps. He turns his head, cheek pillowed against his chest, eyes looking up at Gabe’s face, starting to go dull around the edges.

“You can, Jesse. You’re strong enough,” Gabe insists. He starts to get up, trying to get Jesse up with him. Jesse clutches at his arm.

“Can’t,” Jesse says again, pain flashing briefly through his eyes. Gabe stops moving.

“I’ll carry you if I have to -” Gabe starts to say. The comm crackles in his ear.

“Secured the hostile. We’re on the roof - where did you go?” Edwards responds. Gabe grits his teeth. That wasn't the plan.

“Stairwell,” he says. “More than halfway down. Roof was a no-go for Jess - McCree.”

“We’ll meet you on the ground?” Valdez asks. Gabe scrubs a hand over his face.

“Negative. I need a hand.”

“We’re coming.”

“Hurry.”

Gabe looks down at Jesse. His eyes are closed, his face pale. There’s blood smeared over his lips and his breathing is more and more labored. The dread in Gabe’s chest clutches around his heart. He can’t but help feel responsible for this; that he’s failed Jesse. Another part of him burns in anger - that he didn’t get the chance to act on that flare of hope inside him, that he doesn’t get to love Jesse back. He bows his head over Jesse’s face.

“Jesse,” he says, softly. Jesse’s eyes move behind closed lids for a moment before he manages to pry them open.

“Gabe,” he breathes. He’s twisting his fingers in the front of Gabe’s shirt. There’s a naked fear in Jesse’s eyes that Gabe has never seen, even when he’s been badly hurt before this. “I don’t - I don’t wanna die.”

Something inside his chest collapses in on itself; the empty spaces in his heart finally buckling under the strain. Gabe leans the rest of the way down and presses his mouth to Jesse’s, tasting blood and a slightly sweet, almost rotten taste.  _ Death _ , his mind supplies, but Gabe pushes that thought down. He kisses Jesse because it might be his only chance. He kisses Jesse because he can’t bear the thought of letting Jesse leave this earth without the reassurance that someone -  _ Gabe _ \- loves him.

Jesse exhales, eyes fluttering closed again. His fingers go slack against Gabe’s chest.

“Sir?”

Gabe picks up his head to find Edwards and Valdez standing on the landing above him. They hesitate.

“We need to get moving,” Gabe says gruffly.

Edwards and Valdez come down the steps and help Gabe lift Jesse.

“Careful,” Gabe snaps. Between the three of them, they're able to hoist Jesse and hold him level, all the way up to the roof and into the shuttle. They lie Jesse across the seats in the back. Edwards and Valdez man the controls while Gabe goes for the med kit.

Jesse hasn't moved since they laid him down. Gabe can't tell if Jesse’s chest is actually rising and falling when he comes back with gauze and disinfectant. He doesn't feel for a pulse even though he should - he tries not to think too hard about it, his hands automatically working to cut away the remains of Jesse’s uniform to get at the wound underneath. It’s not good. It's been too long. Jesse was in bad enough shape before the bullet pierced his lung; his skin is mottled by bruises of all different colors under the blood that Gabe now wipes away. There's burns here and there, like cigarettes stubbed out in his flesh. Gabe can feel a broken bone or two in Jesse’s ribs, potentially his arm as well, judging from the angle of his elbow. Jesse’s tough, Gabe reminds himself. He can get through it.

They pick up Prithi and Shiga and get the hell out of there. Prithi joins Gabe to help clean up Jesse as best they can with minimal supplies. Shiga sits nearby, watching over them, unusually quiet. Eventually, they run out of supplies and Gabe sits back, one hand on Jesse’s shoulder, mentally trying to transmit his own life force into Jesse.

“Commander…” Prithi starts to say. Gabe doesn't lift his head or break his concentration. He  _ needs _ Jesse to live.

Edwards and Valdez make excellent time back to the base, all things considered. They probably broke all of the air space laws doing it, but Gabe couldn't care less. Angela’s waiting with the med team. They whisk Jesse out of Gabe’s arms before he can protest. Jesse looks awfully still and pale on the gurney. Gabe doesn't move until Valdez approaches him.

“Sir? We have the hostile,” she says cautiously. Gabe blinks and looks at Valdez, coming back to himself.

“Where is he?”

“Still in the shuttle. Want an interrogation room?”

Gabe sets his jaw and nods. “Yeah. I'll be right there.”

=-=-=

Gabe strides back to his quarters, not pausing to check in or log a report. He strips his bloodied fatigues and drops them in them in the laundry chute. He turns the shower on hot and waits for the bathroom to fill with steam. He glances at his reflection in the mirror; he's got dried blood smeared over his lips and what looks like a handprint on his neck. Gabe swallows hard, finding a lump in his throat. He steps under the water and leans his head against the shower wall, pillowed in the crook of his arm. The blood washes off his skin, swirling down the drain in pink rivulets. Gabe’s eyes blur. His breath sticks in his throat. He allows himself this small moment of panic, fear, dread. He lets it overcome him for just a moment before he forces himself to draw a deep, soothing breath. In. Out. Again: in, out. Gabe shuts off the water.

In a fresh uniform, Gabe squares his shoulders and tightens his jaw as he strides down to the interrogation rooms. Valdez is waiting outside the double-walled door, tablet in hand.

“Anything?” he asks. Valdez shakes her head.

“Not a lot. I ran him through the system, though,” she says, handing him the tablet. “Got hits for Deadlock. He's got the tattoo, too.”

Gabe's gut twists sharply. The wounds on Jesse’s body make sense now; it was personal. This man must have recognized Jesse at the protest and…

“Sir?” Valdez asks cautiously. Gabe snaps out of his reverie.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Valdez nods. Gabe hands back the tablet without actually looking at it. He lets himself into the interrogation room and stands by the door as it clicks closed behind him, arms folded tightly across his chest.

The former Deadlock gang member is slumped in his seat, hands chained to the table, blood drying on his sleeve. Valdez or Prithi or someone cleaned him up enough so that he wouldn't bleed out on them. Gabe hadn't been shooting to kill, anyway. He suddenly wishes he had.

The man picks up his head to look at Gabe with a glare in his eye that reminds him of how Jesse looked when they first brought him in; violent, desperate, with a death wish that made him unpredictable.

“You're Deadlock,” Gabe says without preamble. The man turns his head and spits on the floor.

“Deadlock don't exist no more,” the man says. “I don't run with nobody but myself.”

“Do you know what happens to people who torture Overwatch agents?” Gabe asks, keeping his voice even. The man snorts.

“McCree ain't no agent.”

“He's one of the best.”

“He's a goddamn traitor is what he is. He got what was coming to him,” the man says, spitting again. Gabe presses his fingers into his own arms, doing his best to keep his composure.

“You don't get to play the hand of God.”

“I shoulda killed him sooner,” the man drawls, leaning back in his seat and levelling a look at Gabe. Gabe’s anger flares and he lunges forward, slamming the man’s head to the table and holding it there. The man struggles as Gabe leans in close.

“We’ve got a cell with your name on it in a place where Deadlock is a four letter word,” Gabe hisses into his ear. “You'll make a lot of new friends.”

“You might as well just kill me yourself,” the man grinds out. Gabe’s fingers tighten against the man’s head for a moment before he lets go and takes a step back.

“You don't deserve the easy way out.”

Gabe goes to the door and knocks so Valdez can let him out. Behind him, the man rattles his chains.

“Jesse McCree’s a fucking traitor and he'll suffer for it.”

The door opens and Gabe steps through before he does something he'll regret.

=-=-=

Gabe intends to head to the infirmary to see if there's any status updates, but instead he gets intercepted by Jack. It's the last thing he wants to deal with right now; he's too on edge to have a proper, rational conversation, which is what this whole situation deserves.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jack demands. Gabe clenches his hands at his side.

“You lost my agent. I got him back.”

“You went against protocol.”

“No, I followed your protocol. And nothing happened. So Blackwatch stepped in. Just like we would've done for any other agent,” Gabe says sharply.

“You didn't disclose the mission parameters -”

“I filed the report.”

“I wasn’t  _ notified _ .”

“Jack, if Blackwatch is supposed to be covert ops, you're not going to know every time we blow our noses. That's not how this works.”

“Well maybe it should be.”

Gabe stares at Jack for a moment.

“You can’t have it both ways, Jack,” Gabe says, his voice going low, dangerous. Jack doesn’t back down.

“I have to answer for your messes when the UN drags me in for oversight meetings,” Jack shoots back. “Every time your team blows up another terrorist org -”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Gabe interrupts. “I can’t. You’re not going to listen and I need to make sure my agent isn’t dead.”

Gabe pushes past him, ignoring Jack’s increasingly louder protests. He doesn't have the energy to waste on Jack, not now. His mind is elsewhere, even though another part of him does wonder - not for the first time - how different things would be if he was the one in charge instead of Jack. It's a train of thought he can pursue another time; he's more concerned about getting an update on Jesse’s condition.

The infirmary is empty and quiet when the door shuts behind him, sufficiently blocking out Jack’s displeasure. Gabe looks around, but there's no sign of anyone. He picks a seat at random and waits.

Gabe replays the whole debacle over and over in his head, picking apart where he could've done better, spared Jesse from going over to Overwatch in the first place, screwed protocol and gone after him sooner, moved faster so the Deadlock gangster didn't shoot, hauled him up to the roof instead of down the stairs… The possibilities were endless. Gabe's making himself crazy and he knows it, but he can't help himself. The guilt feels like a wet wool blanket over his mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. He's failed Jesse. He was supposed to protect him. Deadlock was supposed to be gone. He was supposed to… he was supposed to…

After what feels like a very, very long time, one of the nurses wheels a gurney out of the OR. Gabe’s head snaps up and his body does too, heart pounding in his throat. He isn't sure if he should look at the body on the gurney or not. The nurse spots him.

“Commander Reyes, I'm not sure that you're supposed to -” she starts to say but Angela comes out of the OR a moment later, looking tired. There's blood on her scrubs. Gabe feels his throat start to close up. 

“It's fine, Ranita. He’s allowed,” Angela says. Ranita nods, pushing the gurney into a spot by the window and pulling up the breaks. She moves away to get more supplies. Angela looks at Gabe. “He's alive. He'll pull through.”

Gabe’s finally makes himself look at Jesse’s body - he's still pale, bruised, but Angela and her team cleaned him up. His brow is furrowed, and Gabe can see his chest rise and fall under the sheet tucked around him. Gabe’s legs almost give out from underneath him.

“He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while,” Angela says, her face serious but her voice is calm and gentle. “But he'll make a full recovery.”

Gabe is half listening. It's good news. It's all good news - Jesse will be fine.

McCree will be fine, Gabe finds his brain correcting himself. McCree will recover and everything will go back to normal.

The thought should make Gabe happy, but it sticks in his throat. He can already feel the gap widening between them. What had been a confession on Jesse’s - McCree’s part had to be taken with the context in mind; he had been bleeding out, it was his last chance, he was desperate. He’d never have said something like that otherwise; he couldn’t have meant it. Gabe needs to accept that, wrap his head around it. He snuffs out the flare of hope that had been kindled in his chest. 

“He’ll sleep through the night, hopefully,” Angela is saying. “You can come check on him in the morning?”

Gabe shakes his head. “I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.”

Angela hesitates for just a moment, then nods - her expression not as unreadable as Gabe suspects she'd like it to be. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Gabe says. He pulls up a chair and settles in. The sun is setting over the mountains, casting shadows over McCree’s face. Something in Gabe’s chest is tugging painfully, but he does his best to ignore it. He keeps watch as Ranita brings another blanket to the bed and hooks up some more monitors. The sun sets and he doesn’t move. Ranita comes by again to switch out McCree’s IV. Gabe sits close to McCree’s head, keeping an eye on his face. McCree sleeps soundly, barely moving, face calm but for a small pinch between his brows. Gabe keeps watch until the sun starts coming up again and McCree starts regaining consciousness.

It's hard to say whether the early morning sun or McCree’s drugged-up, sleepy smile is brighter. Gabe had spent all night talking himself down, back into commander mode, away from the feelings for McCree this whole experience had dredged up. But now, faced with McCree looking at him like he's the best thing he's ever seen, Gabe’s resolve starts to crumble.

“We made it?” McCree asks, his voice wheezing just a little. He moves a hand and puts it over his chest. It must be sore. Gabe nods.

“Told you I’d get you out of there,” Gabe says. McCree reaches out for Gabe’s hand. It just happens to be lingering on the side of the bed - it's not like Gabe spent most of the night talking himself out of holding McCree’s hand. Still, he doesn't move it away as McCree’s fingers tangle with his own.

“Knew you would,” McCree says. Gabe has to look away, finally. The look in McCree’s eye is too tender, too open. He's still on massive amounts of pain medicine, probably, but Gabe doesn't want to hurt him by stepping on his feelings. He squeezes McCree’s hand just a little.

“Angela did a good job,” Gabe says. McCree tightens his hand around Gabe’s.

“Yeah, but you got me out,” McCree says. His eyes haven't left Gabe’s face and Gabe is having a hard time meeting his gaze. He can't be sure of how much McCree remembers from his rescue. He clears his throat lightly.

“Couldn't leave my best agent behind,” Gabe says, letting his voice go slightly gruff. He feels McCree’s hand stiffen in his own and he instinctively tightens his own grip, not wanting to let go.

“Gabe -” McCree starts to say, voice uncertain, and Gabe feels his breath catch as McCree says his first name, but they're both saved from certain embarrassment as one of the nurses comes in to check on McCree’s monitors. Gabe stands as McCree pulls his hand away, curling his fingers into his palm, as if to hold on to the feeling of McCree’s touch.

“I'll come back a little later to see how you're doing,” Gabe promises. McCree looks up at him.

“Well, I'll be here,” McCree says, patting the spot on the bed where their hands just were. Gabe swallows and allows himself a small smile.

“I'm glad we got you out, McCree,” Gabe says. He pauses. “Jesse.”

McCree’s looking at him, trying to read Gabe’s expression, parse his tone, but Gabe doesn't linger - lest he say something he'll later regret.

=-=-=

Gabe catches Jack just after he's finished his coffee. He corners Jack in his office as Jack is wont to do to him, blocking the exit so Jack can't make an excuse to get away. Gabe knows what he's going to say; he spent most of the night going over and over the words that would get Jack to see things his way.

It's a bitter argument, but Jack knows Gabe is right. That doesn't mean that Jack admits it - he never will and he never goes down without a fight - but it's clear that Jack is tired of trying to wrangle a Blackwatch agent. Jack slings a metric ton of bullshit at Gabe in an attempt to make Gabe’s victory feel like less of a win than it is.

It doesn't matter, though; Gabe gets what he wants. He sends the revised orders to McCree’s tablet. It'll be a nice surprise when he's released from the infirmary.

Gabe gets his own cup of coffee and goes off to oversee new recruit training for the rest of the day, mostly to keep himself occupied. He goes back and forth about bringing McCree dinner (the infirmary will feed him) or maybe just stopping in to check on him. He ends up settling on visiting the infirmary very late, when the lights have been turned down and everyone should be sleeping. Gabe finds McCree’s bed in the same spot as before, but he's got one of Fareeha’s blankets tucked around him. He’s asleep, head turned toward the window, eyes closed, chest rising and falling steadily as the monitors beep gently beside him. Gabe hesitates; what was he expecting? He specifically came late  _ because _ McCree might be asleep, but now that he sees he is, Gabe is strangely disappointed.

Gabe takes a seat next to the bed but keeps his hands in his lap. McCree doesn’t stir. Gabe folds his arms over his chest and settles in. Though he doesn’t intend to, he nods off; he hasn’t slept in days and if he closes his eyes for just a little bit, it’s not going to hurt him…

He wakes suddenly when a hand touches his arm. It’s dark - he has to squint and wait for his eyes to adjust. When he looks down, he sees McCree turned toward him, eyes closed, a hand clutching at Gabe’s arm. He doesn't have the heart to move it. Instead, he moves closer and slips his other hand over McCree’s. He hears him let out a sigh. Gabe settles back and lets himself drift back to sleep.

Gabe leaves before the sun comes up.

=-=-=

It's another day or two before McCree is released from the infirmary. Fareeha keeps leaving more and more blankets on his bed. Gabe returns to the infirmary each night, sleeping in the chair by McCree’s bed, somehow ending up with his hand clutched around McCree’s, always leaving before the sun comes up. They never talk, and Gabe is never quite sure if McCree is awake at any point when he visits. It’s easier if he tells himself that McCree is asleep.

Once McCree leaves the infirmary, though, it's almost impossible to justify checking upon him. Gabe goes a couple of days without seeing him - though Fareeha has been spending an awful lot of time keeping tabs on her older brother type (possibly with alternative motives; it brings her closer to the good doctor, on whom Fareeha has been harboring a not-so-secret crush). Gabe hears bits and pieces from her and it's enough information to put his mind at ease, even if the tightness in his heart doesn't subside.

The Blackwatch squad gets wind that McCree’s been given the all clear and - even better - will return to Blackwatch. Fareeha proposes decorating McCree’s old room for his return, while Shiga and Prithi plan a party to celebrate. If Gabe signs the requisition orders for a couple of handles of booze or helps Fareeha hang streamers, well, he's just doing his part.

Fareeha is disappointed her mother won't let her attend the party so she makes sure Gabe goes for her. It's supposed to be a surprise, but - for all their training in covert ops - the Blackwatch squad has a hard time containing their excitement. Gabe stands off to the side of the lounge room they commandeered for the blow out, holding a glass of champagne as Shiga brings McCree in. Gabe smiles, he can't help it; McCree’s face lights up as he realizes all of his friends are there, the atmosphere is infectious. McCree spots Gabe in the corner and Gabe raises his glass to him, smiling behind the rim. He's probably imagining it, but McCree’s gaze lingers for a moment longer than strictly necessary. McCree gets pulled away and a drink gets pressed into his hand and the party begins in earnest.

Blackwatch parties are infamous for getting out of hand. They usually devolve from drinking heavily to dancing, first on the floor then on tables, and then singing and then into a game of truth or dare with a heavy emphasis on exponentially riskier dares. Gabe doesn't make a habit of staying at these parties once they start getting friskier but he's having a hard time prying himself away. McCree looks genuinely happy to be back with his people. Gabe nurses his glass of champagne and hangs back.

McCree extracts himself as Shiga challenges Edwards to a chugging contest. He finds Gabe in the corner and slides up next to him, keeping his eyes on the two competitors. Gabe feels his pulse quicken and has a sip of champagne to steady himself.

“Good to see you up and about,” Gabe says.

“Thanks for coming,” McCree says. Gabe sneaks a glance at him. McCree is holding the same bottle of beer Shiga had handed him when he walked in close to his chest.

“Wouldn't miss it,” Gabe says honestly. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Me too,” McCree says, half-turning to look at Gabe. He feels his breath catch in his throat and he clears it, takes another sip of champagne to cover it up. He nods to Shiga and Edwards, who appear to be going for round two.

“I hope you're having a good time,” Gabe says. McCree lifts his bottle.

“I'm trying to take it easy. I still feel a little tender,” he says. “Plus, Angela’ll kill me if I undo all her hard work.”

Gabe ducks his head, hiding his expression with a chuckle. He remembers what all that blood on McCree’s body looked like, what it  _ felt  _ like, and it's not a memory that's going to go away anytime soon.

“Yeah, don't do that.”

“Don't plan on it,” McCree says. He hesitates a moment, long enough to make Gabe look up again. McCree’s face has gone more serious, a look in his eye that Gabe can't quite place. His voice goes lower, softer - almost drowned out by all the noise. “Listen, I just wanted to thank you.”

“Ah,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “No need. You would've done the same for me.”

McCree does something that catches Gabe completely off guard; he takes Gabe’s free hand in his own, and squeezes it. Gabe doesn't pull away.

“Gabe,” McCree says, searching to catch Gabe’s eye. Gabe feels his stomach flip over. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Gabe,” Jesse says again, practically breathes it. He steps slightly closer. “I meant what I said. I might've been - I might've been dying or whatever, but I meant it.”

“Which part?” Gabe asks and it's a stupid question, he knows it, but he wants to hear it again, wants to know it was real. McCree tightens his hand around Gabe’s.

“The part where I said I had a crush on you,” McCree says, enunciating clearly. Gabe’s hand tightens around McCree’s involuntarily even as the hope flares in his chest once again. A smile tugs up the corner of McCree’s mouth. “And I remember you kissing me.”

Gabe feels his cheeks go hot and he ducks his head again.

“I don't want to do this here, Jesse,” he mumbles.

“You're not gonna keep avoiding me?” McCree -  _ Jesse _ \- asks. Gabe lifts his head to meet Jesse’s eyes and is surprised to see how nervous he looks under that smirk; eyes wide, jaw tight. He squeezes his hand again, trying to go for reassuring.

“No,” Gabe promises. “I won't. But we can't do this here.”

Jesse’s shoulders relax and his smile melts into an easy grin. “Yeah. Yeah - okay,” he says. He taps the lip of his bottle against the rim of Gabe’s glass. “I'll drink to that.”

Gabe returns the smile, feeling something unclench in his chest.

“Me too.”

=-=-=

Gabe slips away from the party early, hoping Jesse will follow soon. He paces his room while his brain performs mental gymnastics trying not to overanalyze the situation. He doesn’t know, exactly, what Jesse’s going to say when he gets there.  _ If _ he gets there. Gabe’s pretty sure Jesse will come - he’s probably just delayed by the enthusiastic revelries of his teammates. Gabe ends up taking a cold shower in an attempt to calm his nerves. It does almost nothing except make him cold. He turns the heat back up and takes a few steadying breaths. It helps, marginally. Before he steps out of the shower, the small,  _ very  _ optimistic part of him makes sure he’s particularly clean. Gabe feels ridiculously presumptive, but, if he’s learned anything in Blackwatch, it’s to be prepared for any possibility. 

Finally, Jesse knocks on the door just as Gabe’s resumed his pacing. Gabe wrenches it open almost immediately. Jesse steps inside, letting the door latch behind him. Gabe hangs back, trying to ignore the flicker of hope that’s reignited in his chest.

“You remember?” Gabe asks carefully. Jesse is staying by the door with his eyes on Gabe. He nods slowly.

“I do. Every last bit,” he says, his expression going a little far away. “I remember seeing your face above me and then you made me walk down the stairs.”

Gabe makes a face. Jesse presses on. “I was bleeding out and I just thought - I thought, what if I die and I never said anything? I needed to tell you,” he says, looking back at Gabe. “And then you kissed me.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Gabe says.

“Are you gonna do it again?” Jesse asks, cocking his head to the side, mouth curling up.

“You sure you want me to?” Gabe counters.

“Thought I made that clear.”

“Sure, but -”

Jesse takes two long strides to close the space between them. He takes one of Gabe’s hands and reaches up to cup the side of Gabe’s face.

“I know you came to the infirmary, too,” Jesse says, voice quiet. His eyes are searching Gabe’s face and it makes him nervous and hopeful all at once. “Every night I was there.”

“I did.”

Jesse tugs Gabe in and kisses him soundly. Gabe goes easily, letting his eyes slide closed. It’s different this time; Jesse tastes faintly of beer and the sweetness on his tongue tastes distinctly of  _ Jesse _ in a way that is at once familiar and wholly unfamiliar. It blots out the memory of the metallic taste of his bloodied lips, the taste of death. Gabe wraps Jesse up in his arms, pressing close. Heat flares in Gabe’s chest. He wants this. He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it before now, but it’s been an unsaid truth for a long time.

Jesse’s tugging at Gabe’s hoodie and then he feels calloused hands slip under his shirt, sliding against his skin. The touch makes Gabe shiver, press into it. He can feel Jesse’s smirk against his mouth.

“Take it off?” Jesse asks against his lips. Gabe reluctantly drags his mouth away from Jesse’s so he can tug his sweatshirt and shirt off and drop them carelessly on the floor. Jesse, ever-eager, takes the opportunity to do the same. It gives Gabe pause, though - he sees the new, raw pink scars scattered across Jesse’s arms and torso. Jesse catches the look, going a little shy, self-conscious. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It was bad,” Gabe says, reaching out to touch a healing cigarette burn on Jesse’s collar bone. His hand trails down, pausing over the place where the bullet had ripped through Jesse’s lung. Jesse flattens his hand over Gabe’s, pressing it into his skin.

“I’m okay now,” Jesse says. “You saved me, remember?”

Gabe looks back up to meet Jesse’s eye. He swallows and nods. “Yeah.”

“So why don’t you kiss me again, huh?”

Gabe does so, slipping a hand up the side of Jesse’s neck so he can feel his pulse under his fingers. He closes his eyes and tilts his head into the kiss, lips parting to let Jesse in. Jesse’s all eager lips and teeth and tongue, and Gabe gives into it. Most of all, he’s relieved that Jesse is alive, that he’s in Gabe’s arms, that his body is warm against his own. Jesse’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Gabe finds himself breathing hard into Jesse’s mouth. He slides his hand up Jesse’s neck and into his hair, twisting his fingers and pulling lightly. It gets a moan out of Jesse so Gabe does it again. Jesse tips his head back, exposing his throat as he moans again, and Gabe trails kisses along his neck, pausing to press his nose at his jaw just under his ear.

“Gabe,” Jesse breathes. His fingers are clutching at Gabe’s bare back, nails pressing lightly into Gabe’s skin.

“Do you want - we can -”

“Bed?” Jesse asks. Gabe makes a little relieved noise.

“Yeah - yeah, come on,” Gabe says, dragging his mouth away from Jesse’s skin. He tugs Jesse into his small bedroom, kicking off his boots as he goes. Jesse does the same, tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to follow.

Gabe pushes Jesse gently but firmly down onto the bed, making him sprawl out so that he can go over his healed injuries himself. Once he realizes what Gabe is doing, Jesse lies still, head propped up on a pillow, as Gabe’s fingers then his lips map over each new mark on his body. Gabe closes his eyes and breathes in Jesse’s smell, tongue tasting the new, fresh pink skin over the healed cuts, burns, and bullet hole. He listens to Jesse’s breathing - it comes easily, if not a bit quick. Gabe’s not worried - he can guess why his breathing sounds like that. His lips trace a path down to the edge of Jesse’s pants and he finally looks up at Jesse.

“Told you I was okay,” Jesse murmurs, reaching down to tangle a hand in Gabe’s hair. Gabe gives him a small nod and presses a kiss to the skin just above the button on his pants.

“Can I?”

“If you didn’t, I’d have to walk outta here,” Jesse says. He’s smiling, eyes bright, face open. He even wiggles a little. “Please. Don’t you dare stop.”

Gabe makes easy work of his pants, flicking them open and tugging them down and away. He kisses back up Jesse’s legs, noting how his toes curl when he gets too close to the back of his knee -  _ ticklish _ , his mind supplies. He pulls Jesse’s underwear down and tosses them over the side of the bed. He kisses back up again and this time Jesse spreads his legs just a little bit, letting Gabe get between them to press kisses against the insides of his thighs. Jesse gets a hand in Gabe’s hair again, not tugging, just resting there. Gabe keeps listening for his breathing. He hears Jesse suck in his breath when Gabe gets to his dick, already half-hard against his thigh. He glances up without moving his head, just to be sure.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Jesse says again. He tugs on Gabe’s hair lightly, for emphasis, and spreads his legs slightly wider. Gabe keeps his eyes on Jesse’s face as he wraps his lips around the tip of Jesse’s dick. Jesse’s mouth falls open, his eyes widening. His hips twitch up, just a little, but Gabe’s already sliding his mouth down and around him. He’s waited a long time for this - never expected it to ever be a thing he could have - and he’s so grateful that Jesse’s alive - there just doesn’t seem to be any point in waiting any longer.

Gabe swallows Jesse down, relishing the feeling of Jesse hardening on his tongue, filling out and stretching his lips. He comes back up and laves his tongue over the head, teasing the underside, eyes never leaving Jesse’s face. Jesse’s chest is heaving with each breath and he keeps making these little gasping noises every time Gabe’s tongue brushes over the head of his dick. Each noise goes straight to Gabe’s own dick. He wants to remember them forever. He presses his head down and swallows around Jesse, taking as much of him into his mouth as he can, fingers stroking the insides of Jesse’s thighs, holding one hip down to the mattress.

One of Jesse’s hands is still clutching at Gabe’s hair, the other having come up to press his knuckles against his own mouth, trying to stifle the noises that seem to be getting louder and louder. Gabe pulls off with a wet pop and reaches up to pull the hand away from Jesse’s lips.

“Let me hear you,” Gabe says, his voice coming out slightly hoarse.

“Won’t somebody -”

“This isn’t the barracks,” Gabe reminds him gently. Jesse squeezes Gabe’s hand. “Let me hear you.”

Jesse nods but doesn’t let go of Gabe’s hand. Gabe bows his head again, licking up the length of Jesse’s dick before he sucks him into his mouth again. Jesse moans, tossing his head back. His hips twitch up under Gabe, who does something with his tongue that draws a louder moan from Jesse’s mouth. He does it again, and then again, letting his hand slide back behind Jesse’s balls to press at the patch of skin there. Jesse shudders, shifting his hips restlessly to find Gabe’s fingers again.

“Gabe -” Jesse pants. “Gabe - more - more, please? I’m close, I’m really close -”

Gabe makes a rumbling noise in the back of his throat, sending the vibrations up Jesse’s dick. He moans again, bearing down on Gabe’s fingers.

“Gabe - Gabe - Gabe -” Jesse keeps gasping Gabe’s name like some kind of prayer, grabbing at whatever bit of Gabe he can reach. Gabe lifts his eyes to look at Jesse’s face again, coming up to suck at the tip of him. Jesse’s eyes are wide, glazed, his lips shiny and pink from being bitten. “ _ Please _ .”

He can’t deny him. Gabe hollows his cheeks and sucks him down. Jesse arches up off the bed as best he can with Gabe holding his hip down. He comes down Gabe’s throat, shouting his name. Gabe can’t help the moan that escapes his own mouth, rutting his own hips against the mattress for some relief. Jesse quivers and twitches as Gabe pulls off, licking his lips.

“Okay?” Gabe asks. Jesse reaches up and drags Gabe down to his chest, kissing him sloppily. Neither of them speak for a few moments, sharing the taste of Jesse on their tongues, breathing hard into each other’s mouths. Jesse finally pulls away just enough to suck in a breath.

“That was…” he starts to say. He shakes his head a little.

“Okay?” Gabe asks again. Jesse drags him down for another breathless kiss.

“More’n that,” he says against Gabe’s lips. “Are you…?”

“I’m okay,” Gabe says, even though his cock is achingly hard between them. Jesse gives him a skeptical look, the effect of which is diminished by his red face.

“I wanna help.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Gabe says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth just because he can. “Taking it easy.”

Jesse snorts. “Can’t rest with that thing pokin’ me.”

Gabe feels the color rise in his own face. Jesse pulls him in, kissing him deeply, tongue sweeping between his lips. His hand sneaks down to palm Gabe through the fabric of his pants. Gabe’s hips twitch into the touch before he can stop himself.

“’swhat I thought,” Jesse says with a smirk. “C’mon, I’ve been waiting for the chance.”

Gabe would be lying if he said he thought twice about it. He shifts over on the bed and shimmies out of his pants, kicking them off and letting them fall on the floor. Jesse swarms over him as soon as his pants are off. His hands slide all over Gabe’s chest, down his stomach, over the tops of his thighs. He’s not watching Gabe’s face, instead watching his own hands on Gabe’s skin. He’s fully absorbed in it, almost wonderingly. Gabe shifts a little under him, feeling exposed. Jesse glances up, mouth quirking up at the corner. 

“Sorry. Don’t mean to make you wait,” he says, settling fully between Gabe’s legs. 

“It’s not that -”

Jesse stops. “Second thoughts?”

“No - no, hell no. It’s just - it’s been awhile,” Gabe says, color rising to his cheeks again. Jesse’s face softens. Gabe scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

Jesse runs his hand along Gabe’s thigh. “Lemme do this then, okay?”

“I’m not gonna stop you now,” Gabe says, peeking between his fingers. Jesse scrambles up to kiss him, cupping his face in both hands. Gabe relaxes into it, tipping his head back and letting Jesse nip at his lips, his jaw, his throat. Jesse kisses and nips his way back down Gabe’s chest and stomach. He pushes Gabe’s legs further apart and settles in, licking a long stripe up Gabe’s dick, running his tongue around the head before sucking lightly on the end. Gabe lets out a moan that takes himself by surprise. Jesse takes it as a good sign and swallows Gabe down as far as he can go. Gabe makes another noise. He's not going to last long. Jesse’s sloppy and enthusiastic, his mouth hot and wet around him, making obscene slurping noises that Gabe can't get enough of. He can't take Gabe all the way down, but it doesn't seem to stop him from making the best of it, covering Gabe’s cock in wet, sucking kisses, long laves of his tongue, fingers working the base of his dick in short strokes. 

Gabe’s feet are rucking up the sheets, toes curling, when Jesse ducks his head further down, nosing behind his balls, his tongue licking a long stripe over Gabe’s hole. Gabe practically jumps, making Jesse pick his head up immediately. Gabe’s throat works for a moment - having a hard time getting a sound out. 

“ _ Yeah _ , Jesse,” he finally says. Jesse grins and ducks back down, dragging his tongue from the tip of Gabe’s dick and all the way back. Gabe tips his head all the way back, Jesse’s tongue circling his hole, pressing lightly then retreating to be replaced with a soft, sucking kiss. It's too much, and Jesse keeps making pleased, enthusiastic noises right up against him. He's practically shaking, his hand clutched in Jesse’s hair like a lifeline. Jesse points his tongue, pressing it inside Gabe as his hand works Gabe’s cock, stroking it in firm strokes with a twist of his wrist. It's too much. It's too much. It's - “Jesse!”

Gabe comes hard, arching up and splattering his own stomach, one leg kicking out. Jesse keeps stroking him, keeps licking him until his dick gives one last feeble twitch. He comes up, dragging his tongue through the mess on Gabe’s stomach and heaving chest. He kisses Gabe deeply, and Gabe thinks he could happily spend the rest of his life just like this. He pulls Jesse in tight, wrapping him up in his arms, one hand in the hair at the back of his neck. 

Finally, they both pull away, though Jesse ends up tucking himself into Gabe’s side, head resting on his shoulder. They're sleepy and sated, but the light is too far away for either of them to bother getting up. 

“If this is what happens every time you save my life, I think I'm gonna have to get myself into trouble more often,” Jesse mumbles against Gabe’s neck. Gabe makes a face. 

“How about we skip that part?”

Jesse picks up his head to look at Gabe, eyebrows raised. “Which part?”

“Where I have to save your life to get you here,” Gabe says, rolling his eyes. A smile spreads across Jesse’s face that makes him look entirely too pleased with himself, like the cat that got the cream. He’s teasing him, fishing for some kind of affection, but it doesn't come close to chilling the warmth that's spreading through Gabe’s chest. Jesse rests his chin on Gabe’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Seems a lot more pleasant,” Gabe nods. Jesse leans up and kisses Gabe again. It's Gabe’s new favorite thing - the way Jesse’s lips feel on his, the way his body molds to his own. He wonders, vaguely, how long they might be able to stay like this before someone comes looking for them. 

“I think I can work with that,” Jesse murmurs. Gabe smiles against his mouth. He might have to put in some PTO to personally oversee Jesse’s recovery. It’d be worth it. 


End file.
